“Still sporting the I’m-so-sexy-no-one-can-be-mad-at-me smile?” Jackie struck a pose with one ankle out, flipped coat behind her, and a hand on her hip.
He wanted to remind the woman that her dear friend was the villain in the high school saga of Sugar Maple, not him. “Trust me, I’m not trying to sport anything to anyone. I’m just here to pick something up for my mom, and then I’m headed to the farm. I plan to be as distant and invisible as possible.”
“Really? By riding into town on a motorcycle everyone can hear, a James Dean look for everyone to notice, and all staged in the heart of the town. In front of Mary-Beth’s coffee shop?”
“What?” His gut clenched as if catching a fifty-yard pass in the end zone of life. “She’s gone, left Sugar Maple before I did for her dream life of being a dancer.”
Jackie laughed, a sinister, dainty laugh that sounded like a Scarlett O’Hara Joker. “Riiiight. So, you had no idea that she returned to Sugar Maple after college to help her parents when her mother became ill?”
His mind rolled with confusion and fear. “Ill? Is Mrs. Richards okay?”
“Yes, she is now, but apparently Mary-Beth decided to stay and open this place.” She pointed to the Maple Grounds sign in swirly, fall-colored font with a large maple leaf at the side. The style screamed Mary-Beth Richards.
He eyed the front windows. Part of him wanted to burst through the doors and demand to know why she took off without a word. Another part of him wanted to get on his bike and race out of town. “I thought she wouldn’t be here.”
“You would’ve known if the almighty football hero would’ve ever taken a minute to check in with his family and friends.”
He studied his riding boots. “I’m no hero.” That was it, the end of the conversation. No way in God’s great Smoky Mountains would he open up to Jackie and the Fabulous Five’s impending invasion. He’d go to the farm and hide out until he could escape again when his brother finished up his tour. Only a few months. What could happen in a few months? “Nice to see you again Jackie.” He bolted to the feed store and marched to the counter. “I’m here to pick up an order for the McCadden Farm.”
“If it isn’t Tanner McCadden. Good to see you, man. You really did escape the small-town life. What are you doing back here?” asked a man around his age who looked vaguely familiar with his flat-top, broad shoulders, and square jaw, but Tanner couldn’t place him except for recognizing he was an obvious ex-football buddy.
“Good to see you. Sorry, in a bit of a hurry. Thanks.” He snagged the feed bag and bolted out of the store, keeping his head down all the way to his bike.
“You gonna put that over your shoulder and balance it there all the way back to the farm?”
He looked up to find a mesmerizing, life-altering, perfectly packaged girl with big earrings, big bracelets, big eyes, and big attitude sitting on his bike. “Hi, Mary-Beth. How you been?”
“I’ve been here. You?”
“Fine.” He adjusted the feed bag on his shoulder, realizing he’d been so busy worrying about getting through town without running into anyone, he hadn’t thought about how he’d get the feed bag home on his new motorcycle. The one he bought in Nashville so he could have his own ride without investing too much in a car. He’d lived near campus and rented a car when needed on weekends. He’d been saving for some property outside of town for the last five years.
“Fine?” Mary-Beth placed one hand on the clutch and eyed him with the strangest expression. “I was sorry about your father.”
“Thanks.”
“I was more sorry you couldn’t be bothered to come to his funeral.”
Ouch. He dug his nails into the bag and fought his need to yell at the world. “I didn’t know.”
She tilted her head, and her brown hair with blonde highlights fell over her cheeks as her brows furrowed. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t. Not until two weeks after the funeral.” He cleared his throat and mind of the anguish he felt at not seeing his father before he’d passed. No way he’d show anyone how much he cared for a man who didn’t want him around after his epic football fail.
“Your mom didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
She rose from the bike and studied him, from his hair to his toes. “But you’re here now, why?”
“To save the family farm. That’s right, I gave up my life to come save a place where I never belonged and for a man who never wanted me there.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Your mom didn’t tell you about your father, but she told you about the farm?”
“No.”
She blinked, appearing as confused as he felt. He balanced the feed bag with one hand and slid a letter from his inside jacket pocket and held it out to her.
A breeze swept through town, sending her skirt twirling around her long legs and her hair across her face. A memory flashed of standing at the edge of a Smoky Mountain cliff with wind barreling through the valley, holding her hand, promising forever to each other.
“It’s typed and unsigned. Who wrote this?”
“Don’t know. My mom doesn’t know, either, but when I told her about it, she broke down and cried for an hour. Now I’m here.” He took the note and shoved it back in its spot next to his heart. “I don’t know if I want to thank the person or curse him.” He retrieved the bag and slid past her, ignoring the pull he’d always felt anytime he was near Mary-Beth. The longing to hold her, to kiss her, to love her split his heart in half.
She placed a hand on his, stalling him. “Wait.”
His pulse revved louder than his new bike. “No. I have to go.” He needed to flee before he fell apart and begged her to tell him why she’d left, returned, and never told him. Never once spoken to him, never thought to wait for him. Then a spark of excitement ignited inside him. “Did you send the letter?”
Mary-Beth let him go. “I wouldn’t have known where to send it.” She stepped away from him, her voice dipping to a cool temperature. “I’ll get Felicia to drop the feed off in an hour since she needs to be out there anyway.”
The last thing he wanted was to see another one of the Fabulous Five. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I wouldn’t want her to make a special trip.”
“She won’t be, since she has to be out there along with all of us.”
His mouth went winter dry. “Why would you all be at the farm?”
“Your mom didn’t tell you? We’ll be spending a lot of time there over the next few weeks, getting ready for the wedding.”
His insides iced over, and he thought he’d fall to his knees. But he wouldn’t. He would never let her see how she’d destroyed him, ruined all other women he dated because he could never forget her. Dropping the bag before the weight took his weak knees to the ground, he then slid on his jacket, his helmet, and mounted his bike. “Thank Felicia for me.” He pointed to the bag and then revved his engine. His stomach burned with anguish, but he wouldn’t let her know how he really felt. “And congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”